Wake Up
by Vanillasiren
Summary: Rumple/Regina scenes from 3X10, "Pandora's Box."


Wake Up

Summary: Rumple/Regina scenes from 3X10, "Pandora's Box."

_Regina's POV_

Her mother was right.

_Love is weakness, Regina._

She was right. Love makes you weak.

Love makes you stupid.

She had wanted to so badly to believe Henry still needed her to be his mother that she had been blind to what was right in front of her.

Emma had been right. She had known that in her gut. Henry wasn't acting like himself. Emma had been right, and she had refused to see it. Instead, she chose to believe that Emma was just jealous he wanted to be with Regina instead of her; she was too enamored of the idea of being the favored parent, the sough-out parent. She has spent so much of her life obscured in the shadow of other people's affections that Henry choosing her was like stepping into the light at last.

All those years she'd spent at Leopold's side, all the time she'd spent with him and Snow … she didn't love her husband, but that didn't mean she liked living in Eva's shadow, of being thought as a pale, inadequate substitute. Even Snow, who seemed to adore her, who was the whole reason the king married her … even Snow would have traded her for Eva in a heartbeat. It hurt to know that, more than Regina cared to admit. It hurt, and it was another reason she had to hate Snow, to sweeten the sting of that knowledge with the bitterness of her wrath.

When Emma first came town … never had Regina felt so keenly that Henry was Snow's grandson.

_Stupid_, she had thought, even as she sank into unconsciousness, realizing too late that Pan must have switched bodies with Henry. _Stupid, stupid! Love makes you stupid…_

The next thing she remembers is a gentle touch … a caress almost. She feels the warmth of magic wash over her, _his_ magic, and simultaneously feels excited and safe. She also feels discomfited, because … he's shouldn't be doing this. She's sure to the naked eye it appears to be a cursory, efficient gesture, the spell he's invoking to wake her up, but to _her_, it feels far too intimate, too familiar, and some nameless instinct makes her fight it. She needs him to be rougher, to drag her kicking and screaming to wakefulness … but he won't.

_Regina, my wicked one. Regina, please … wake up._

She's imagining it, his voice in his head. They've never been able to communicate on that level, and they never will.

And yet …

Regina opens her eyes and asks what happened, though deep down she already knows the truth, that her weakness allowed Pan to trick her. But when she sees Henry in Pan's body, she rushes to embrace him, awkward as it is, and it seems he forgives her for her mistake.

The moment is interrupted by Rumple's voice: "Please don't tell me you kept it here." She turns to see him looking at her, and his expression fills her with dread.

"Where else would I keep it?"

It turns out the Dark Curse can be re-cast. Of course, the twisted little imp might have told her that in the first place, and she might have been more careful with it, but he wouldn't be his damned infuriating self if he didn't keep things from her, would he?

Still, she can't find it in her to be angry with him, not now. She is guilty, and she is afraid, and she still shivers at the memory of his recent touch. Their gazes remain locked as she silently begs him to fix this.

The scariest part is, she doesn't know if he can.

_Rumplestiltskin's POV_

She's in there.

She's in there, in that damned mausoleum of hers.

She's in there, _alone_, with Pan.

With that … child-like monstrosity his father has become.

Gods only what he will do her.

Especially if he has any inkling of what Regina means to him …

Which is nothing. She means nothing.

She _has_ to mean nothing …

Gods _damn _her protection spell!

He breaks through it in a burst of anger and frustration. _You'll never be more powerful than me, dearie._

They find her quickly. It's Snow that rushes to her side, and makes sure she is alive. He has to grip his cane to keep himself from doing the same. It's strange, after all these years, after all she's done, that Snow still seems to care for her on some level.

Or perhaps not so strange. Letting go of affection for that infuriating women … it's a daunting task.

He should know …

He approaches her quietly, after Snow as moved away, hoping to escape notice. He reaches his hand out, touching her and not touching her, self-consciously downplaying any inherent intimacy in the gesture. He hopes it looks more impersonal than it feels to him. He lets the gentlest of revival spells wash over her, and he feels her respond to it and – strangely – struggle against it.

He can't fathom why. Stubbornness, or pride, or …

_Damn it, Regina, we don't have time for this! Wake up and let me know you're alright!_

But then, for some reason, instead of giving into the agitated energy of the moment, he decides to try a different tactic.

_Regina, my wicked one. Regina, please … wake up._

Even though they're not spoken aloud, the words, the thoughts, make him tremble.

_My wicked one._ He has not called her that since …

But it works. Regina's eyes flutter open, and she asks what happened. He quickly moves away.

And there's little time to dwell on any awkwardness, as he stumbles on a discovery that makes his blood run cold.

"Please don't tell me you kept it here."

She looks at him, her face pale, her eyes as wide and guileless as the day she summoned him, clad all in white, kind and gentle and irresistibly corruptible. When she speaks, he voice is like a child's:

"Where else would I keep it?"

When he explains that the Dark Curse can be recast, and that there will be no built-in failsafe this time, he sees a brief flash of anger in her eyes, before her features are overtaken by fear. And then, as before, as in their beginning, she is desperate, looking at him with eyes wide enough to drown in – _Can you help me?_ – as she silently begs him to fix this.

The scariest part is, he doesn't know if he can.


End file.
